


Weapon of Choice

by Teawithmagician



Series: Billy & Goody [6]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: F/M, Genderbending, Het, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Romance, Women's Rights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 19:16:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8908705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teawithmagician/pseuds/Teawithmagician
Summary: “Men must be afraid of you,” Vasquez says, looking pleased. Faraday smiles, his eyes are vague. Billy knows that’s a test.





	

**Author's Note:**

> *fem!Billy  
> *monologues

Billy comes to dinner late. She is hungry, yet she doesn’t want to go. She remembers it happened before: she sat in a tent and listened to the worker’s arguing over the noodle soup. She should get up and walk out, holding her bowl in her hands, but she didn’t do it.

She could get up and go, but she felt like sitting on the mat and listening to the voices, her head empty like a broken pot. Billy never knew why. She has never had a spleen that makes Goody quiet and thoughtful. She has always known she has work to do and no time to be pathetic.

It doesn’t help when Billy stands on the top of the staircase and listens to the voices downstairs. Vasquez complains his head still aches, aye carbon, Faraday mocks him and Vasquez snaps in respond. Chisolm must be there, too, and Cullen, and Goody, but where's Horne and Red Harvest?

Cullen never sits with the men and Billy now wears the skirt she lost interest in, too. She can put the trousers on back again, but she started with the skirt and she is going to finish with it. She knows that they know, the Chisolm’s men. She needn’t point it out, but she keeps the skirt on.

Billy goes down the stairs and gets to the table, not looking at them and seeing them all. Vasquez looks at her, and Faraday doesn’t. Faraday smokes and pretends to be watching the gray circles of smoke. Goody sits next to Chisolm, his legs crossed., and twirls the glass in his fingers.

Goody looks like he’s been talking to Chisolm and stopped to sip on the drink. The drink smells like whiskey and coffee, an old-fashioned way to stay awake and alive. Goody starts to get up from his chair as she approaches, and Billy makes a choice by herself – she takes a chair and sits at the table. 

A girl brings beans and bacon along with another plate with dark bread.

“So you’re chica, no chico,” Vasquez says. His eyes are dark like chestnuts. “I don’t know much of women who do it with knives.”

Faraday watches Billy. Goody keeps silent, Billy knows he waits, tapping his hand on his knee. Chisolm talks to the girl, asking her for an additive. Chisolm does not participate. If Billy wants to talk, she will talk on her own. 

“Now you know,” Billy says. She takes the spoon and leaves the fork. She starts eating, leaning over the plate.

“Men must be afraid of you,” Vasquez says, looking pleased. Faraday smiles, his eyes are vague. Billy knows that’s a test.

“They do. You do.”

“I am not afraid of you. I want to have fun with a woman men are afraid of,” Vasquez bursts out with laughter. “You can tear out my cojones. That makes them ring. Do you want to try?”

Faraday starts to laugh quietly. A girl brings Chisolm bacon and a bean hill covered with thick sauce. She puts away the dirty forks and lays down clean ones. She listens, too, as Vasquez squints to look over her collar. 

Billy chews, looking Vasquez into the eyes. She is not blinking. She can do it until it becomes creepy. Everything for Billy here is a test, and she's already been through many. She swallows, and Vasquez put his hand on the table. For a man, his hands are pretty narrow.

Billy moves in a blink and drives the knife into the table between Vasquez’s fingers. Vasquez jerks back, swearing. He jumps on a chair and falls buck with a rumble. Faraday swiftly moves aside, letting Vasquez fall.

“I’ve seen that coming,” Faraday says solemnly and starts to laugh. His laugh is so jolly that Vasquez starts to laugh, too. Faraday gives Vasquez a hand and Vasquez gets up slowly, dragging the chair behind. 

“Your Southern man doesn’t protect you well,” Vasquez says, sitting back at the unsteady chair. The chair's leg is swinging, screeching under his weight. “That’s why you are so good with knives.”

“Firstly,” Goody starts to speak, “Bai Ling is not exactly mine. She is a free woman, and her company is my pleasure, not her obligation. And, secondly, as you may have noticed, she can handle cabrones like you well, so I just don’t spoil the fun.”

Goody talks like in a parlor, and Vasquez looks puzzled. He looks at Goody, who talks calm and just a little bit lazy, pulling the words, and when at Faraday as though asking for a prompt. Faraday ignores him, asking the girl for more whiskey. Chisolm chews on the bacon like nothing has happened.

Billy doesn't feel like eating anymore. She stands up, and Goody grabs her wrist, mildly circling it with his thumbnail and forefinger. He shouldn't do it in front of everyone, it makes the knife trick useless, Billy thinks discontentedly.

“Where’d you go?” Goody asks. He must understand he spoils the moment, but he doesn't. 

“I want to smoke,” Billy says abruptly, and Goody stands up, moving his glass behind the plate. 

“I will accompany you if you don’t mind.”

Billy doesn’t wait for Goody to follows her. She walks out and stands at verandah, taking the cigarettes out the vest pocket. She takes one, lights it and makes a deep, slow drag. When Goody approaches, Billy gives him cigarettes. Goody leans forward, as Billy gives him a light. 

The prairie night is dark, and the light of the match hardly lightens up Goody’s face. Billy doesn’t need the light to remember. There’s something boyish about Goody's face, even though he has a beard and hair that slowly turns gray, he is not as slow and lazy and overconfident like the men of his age are.

Goody is slow and lazy and self-confident in his own way. When he starts to talk, everyone listens even if he doesn’t try to make an impression. There’s something about him that makes people keep silent while they hear him talking. 

And he has just shown everyone, even if saying it is not so, he's Billy man and owns her, even if he tries to show something more.

“You say I am not yours,” Billy says. “Then you took my hand and asked me where'd I go. This doesn't make sense.” 

Goody drags deeply, releasing the wisps of smoke out of his nostrils. He shrugs his shoulders.

“You are not mine, I suppose. You are your own. And if I want to have a smoke with you, I need to know where'd you go first.”

Billy looks down. She likes the way Goody has stayed out of a fight. Interfering is not taking care of her, it's showing everyone as a man she is brave, but as a woman she is weak. And then he grabbed her hand like all the men do with the women they own.

“You’ve said I’ve never asked you what do you want,” Goody speaks in a pause. “I dare to ask you, if you won’t mind, my darling, what the heck do you need? I thought you wanted to keep everything in secret and use privileges women are spared of. I didn’t mind anything and I thought it was enough.”

“It was,” Billy nods. She is numb to explain, yet Goody waits for the answer. The blister is too big and she needs to talk to him before she doesn't want to speak to anyone.

Why is it so hard for her to speak out, Billy wonders. Goody never hesitated if Billy wouldn’t like to listen to him or would think him weak and unworthy, he just talked. Billy feels strong and worthy only in her head. When someone else is listening, she feels puny and small.

“You won’t understand,” Billy says. The cigarette is flaming in her hand surrounded be the darkness, like a tiny red hell star.

“What if I tried?” 

Goody looks at Billy, tilting his head. Billy’s mouth is filled with words that stuck like a moist wool. She looks at Goody and wishes he can figure it out instead, but he doesn't see it her eyes. He speaks better, but what she wants to speak of, he just doesn't know.

“I am not like you,” Billy tries to explain. “What I’ve learned, it was different. A daughter in a family is a curse, and my father wanted a boy. It's all about it. Everyone wants a boy more. Every time, everywhere.”

“Well, a daughter can make a father worry when trying to collect some dowry for her, but a daughter herself is not a curse. You are not a curse.”  
Billy shakes her head violently.

“No, no. These are just words. I’ve grown up feeling useless. My own people never took me for a human because for them, for everyone women are not human. It’s different. For men, to love means to own, and sometimes a trophy. To own means to rule. You take my hand and ask where do I go, and everyone sees it like you own my time and let me go or tell me to stay.”

“Do you have a feeling I rule you? To own you, and it makes you feel bad?” now Goody looks puzzled. “That's a nuisance. Of course, I can take your hand, that's too obvious we are being close. So what? As far as I know, adults do.” 

“Yes. Sometimes yes. And sometimes no. You treat me like a servant when I am dressed up like a man, and as a princess when I am dressed up like a woman. I’m either a servant or a pet,” Billy feels desperate as she sees Goody’s face going gray. “I don’t want it that way. That must be different.”

“So what I feel for you is not enough?” Goody asks harshly, and Billy nodes.

“Love is not enough. I don’t feel like you respect me for what I am, not for being useful or smart. You don’t know how does it feel when you can be treated a little better than a dog only if you are someone else. If you are yourself, you will be treated even worse than a dog.”

“That’s rubbish, I respect you, and…” Goody starts, and Billy interrupts him.

“You only talk about yourself. We were partners, that what you used to say. In truth, we are not partners. I am your bodyguard, I protect you from the death and the fears. I am not afraid to protect, I am better than you in it. But when I am at your side, you keep on thinking about yourself. You want to leave this town and want to keep my sex in secret. Have never asked me if I wanted to?”

“Would you ever stand a man who wanted to keep you out of the fight? Out of anything? I can’t imagine a man who could take care of you if you didn’t let him. I’m at your side, but you never talked about yourself much. If you felt disappointed and angry, why wouldn’t you say it? I can’t read your mind no matter how much I wish it sometimes.”

Goody sounds bitter. The cigarette goes out in his mouth and Goody throws it away. 

“No. But I am not accustomed to asking. No one has ever really wondered if I was okay, no one cared. I was told to keep my mouth shut as a stupid girl. As a man, I must have clenched my teeth and carry on. If you are not white, nobody cares for your life. If you are a woman, you don’t even have that life. I chose to be a man not because I wanted to, because I had no choice, and you never asked me why.”

Billy crosses her hands over her chest, feeling the cool night breeze on the back of her neck as her hair is kept together in a bun again, pierced by a hairpin. The more she talks, the more exhausted she feels. Words bring back memories, and the memories are dark. They make it hard to breathe.

Goody sighs, and Billy turns her face away. There are the sounds of the piano reaching from the house, Billy wonders who can be playing. When Goody outstretches a hand and touches her cheek, Billy’s skin covers with creeps – his fingers are like a touch of a warm honey.

“You won’t go with me, won’t you?” Goody asks softly, and Billy nods. Her mouth is dry as Goody’s fingers gets right behind her ear, caressing it.

“You have such small lovely ears for a woman who doesn’t afraid anyone in this life. You are a better person than me, Bai Ling. A braver, stronger person. Either in pants or in a dress, you will be in my heart forever.”

Goody leans over Billy, and Billy closes her eyes, holding her breath. His fingers suddenly appear in her hand and she squeezes them tight, feeling the familiar smell of Goody’s neatly cut temples. Goody kisses Billy on the forehead and whispers, “I beg you to go with me. Would you like me to beg? Because I do. You and me, we’ve suffered enough and I now want you to be by my side.”

Billy sighs deeply and opens her eyes. There are tears in Goody’s eyes. Billy wants to hit him because he betrays her – not Chisolm, Chisolm has never been that way – but she can't do it now. Goody has something Billy needs to have first. The feeling is high. 

Billy pulls Goody’s beard and kisses him on the lips, her tongue rushing into his mouth. Her arms run under his vest, clenching his spine and getting under his belt to feel his burning skin. Goody presses into Billy and she wants him now, she wants him bad. Before he leaves, he leaves her satisfied.

No.

Billy bites Goody’s lower lips and he gives a muffled cry. Billy bites too hard and the blood smears on his beard. She holds the buckle of his belt and looks him into the eyes.

“Now go,” she says. “I love you, but I am not your dog. I am not here to follow.”


End file.
